


Our Stitches Mend Each Other

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Series: Night Hymns [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, Couch Sex, Healing, Healing Sex, Intimacy, M/M, Oral Sex, Top Sherlock, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:56:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stitching up Sherlock after a case leads to couch makeouts and something neither of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Stitches Mend Each Other

"Be still!" John growled, holding Sherlock’s arm tightly in one hand and the suture in the other.

"It hurts," hissed Sherlock

"Yes, that tends to go with getting shot. I told you to go to hospital." John grit his teeth and adjusted the needle in his hand.

“Merely a graze, and I have a perfectly capable doctor, ergh, right here."

Huffing angrily as Sherlock moved again, John shifted and straddled his lap, pinning him with his body weight as he leaned over Sherlock’s arm again.

They were on the couch, Sherlock with his shirt off, John still in his street clothes, even his blood stained jacket. His gun lay on the coffee table behind them, next to the open medical bag. The rest of the flat was dark, save the light illuminating the area where John worked deftly.

Finishing the last few stitches and tying them off, John took his weight off Sherlock. "You can open your eyes now."

Still in Sherlock’s lap, John turned and dropped the needle into his bag, wiping his hands before grabbing a bandage. When he turned back, Sherlock was watching him. Licking his lips, John looked to the arm. He finished the job meticulously. “I should get washed up," he muttered, starting to stand.

Sherlock hooked an arm around John’s waist, pulling him down again. "Stay."

John took a deep breath, then another. Sherlock watched his face a moment, then, before John could read his eyes, reached over and turned off the lamp, sending the room into shadows.

John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock, planting his warm hands on Sherlock’s cool, bare chest. Sherlock moaned and opened his mouth as John ground slowly against him.

With another moan, Sherlock rested his hand on the back of John's neck. Without breaking the kiss, John peeled his jacket off and dropped it to the floor.  Bringing his hands forward again, he held Sherlock’s shoulders as he explored the depths of his mouth.

They finally broke for air, panting. Sherlock started to speak, but John cut him off with another kiss before the words could leave his lips. Sherlock unbuttoned  John’s shirt while the other man sucked his bottom lip.

When the buttons were undone, John stopped kissing Sherlock long enough to pull it off. Then he sat back to peel his tshirt over his head. "Lube?" He asked softly.

The hesitation was just long enough to make John frown. Sherlock pulled him down for a short kiss. "My room. Bedside table drawer."

"Don't move," John ordered, getting up carefully. He adjusted himself as he stepped away, then discarded his jeans on the other side of the room. John knew Sherlock was watching as he padded to Sherlock’s room in just his pants.

John didn’t turn on a light; the bed was clear enough with its crisp white sheets. It took only a moment of fumbling in the drawer to find the bottle. Returning to the sitting room, John stopped and watched Sherlock.

The other man hadn't obeyed his order to stay still. Sherlock's trousers were open and he stroked himself slowly as he waited for John. His chin had dropped to his chest, curls falling forward. If not for the steady movement of his hand he could pass for asleep

John watched Sherlock for a long moment before crossing the wide expanse between them. He tilted Sherlock’s chin and kissed him again before slipping to his knees. Sherlock’s hand stilled, his breath short. "John...you don't have to..."

Silently, John moved Sherlock's hands. He'd never given a blow job before, but he knew what he liked. Leaning forward he licked Sherlock from root to tip, producing a shudder of pleasure. He focused his tongue on the head for a few moments until Sherlock planted a hand on his shoulder. "Too much," Sherlock gasped. Wiping his mouth, John looked up at Sherlock, wishing the man’s face wasn't hidden. Instead he turned his head and picked up Sherlock’s other hand, kissing the palm before turning back and wrapping his mouth around Sherlock’s cock.

Sherlock rocked into his mouth with a low cry, clearly trying not to push John. Gripped his hips. John bobbed further and further down, feeling Sherlock thicken on his tongue. As it filled his mouth and struck the back of the throat he gagged and pulled off, wiping his mouth and looking back up at Sherlock.

This time it was Sherlock that took his chin in hand and pulled him up for a heavy kiss. John pushed down his pants and climbed back into Sherlock’s lap, pressing the bottle into his hands. The opening cap was loud in the silent room. He spread his knees wider as Sherlock reached to find the cleft of his ass, moaning against Sherlock’s mouth as he penetrated him with cold fingers.

Dropping a hand to stroke himself, John rocked back on Sherlock’s fingers. It suddenly occurred to John just how much he trusted this man. Before he could chase that thought, Sherlock’s fingers brushed a place inside that set his nerves on fire. He jerked, but didn't pull away. Sherlock chuckled low and pulled him into another unhurried kiss, soothing and spreading John open.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s neck, taking control of the kiss and rubbing his erection against Sherlock’s stomach. Sherlock added another finger and John broke the kiss as he rocked back against his hand. "Fuck me," he breathed.

“Oh, John,” Sherlock’s desire sounded like a prayer as he shifted slightly, head of his cock pressed just lightly against John’s bottom. John closed his eyes as he sank down, head thrown back as he felt his lover fill him more than he ever thought he could be filled. John moaned and writhed, for the moment forgetting everything else.  Then Sherlock barely touched his cheek.

Opening his eyes again, John turned his head and captured Sherlock’s fingers, sucking them down as he tried to watch the other man’s face. John’s own face was lit slightly by the streetlights, but Sherlock’s remained in darkness. John dropped the fingers and leaned forward, cupping Sherlock’s face in both his strong hands and kissing him with a passion he thought he’d long since lost.

Sherlock thrust helplessly against him as John pressed Sherlock against the back of the couch, tongue buried deep. John fisted Sherlock’s hair, meeting the thrusts until their cries mingled together, beyond words. One of Sherlock’s hands wrapped around John’s cock, the other one scrabbled at his back, seeking purchase.

Pulling free of John’s mouth, Sherlock turned his head aside. Panting, he thrust twice more and filled John with high moan. John leaned down and bit at Sherlock’s throat with a growl, knocking his hand aside and fisting his own erection. Sherlock twisted his neck beneath John’s teeth, seemingly savouring the sensation.

“ _Sherlock_ ,” hissed John as he came hard, painting Sherlock’s chest and stomach with a thick stream. He dropped his head against Sherlock’s shoulder, body going limp. Sherlock chuckled softly and shifted John, laying him on his back as he carefully pulled out. John whimpered a bit as Sherlock stepped away, returning after a moment to clean John up.

Sherlock turned to put the washcloth back, but John reached out a hand and tugged him back to the couch, eyes still closed. Sherlock dropped the cloth into the detritus on the coffee table and stretched out on top of John, tucking his head against John’s scarred shoulder. John gently carded his fingers through Sherlock’s hair until he fell asleep.

**

John slowly woke in his own bed early the next morning. He stretched and the aches in his body told him that last night hadn’t been a dream. Wondering what he’d find, he got out of bed and pulled on his robe, making his way downstairs.

Sherlock was sitting on the couch using John’s laptop. A small smile quirked across John’s lips as he turned for the kitchen. To his surprise the kettle was ready with a tea cup sitting close at hand. Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, he poured himself a cuppa and set about finding himself some breakfast, knowing something had changed, hopefully for the better.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
